Follow Your Heart: The Coming Back Story of Megan Pohl
by marielynnecreations
Summary: Remember how Tina Harwood collided with another skater in the short program warmup of the Olympics? What if that other skater was her best friend? This is the story of Megan Pohl (a character I created), based very loosely on an event from Ice Princess. Tina Harwood has been renamed Lena Hoerner. Mental illness trigger warning. Read Author's Note in Preface, please.
1. The Scrapbook

**Author's Note- **_Hi. Okay. Honestly, I don't know where to begin. This is a story that I have been working on, inconsistently, for probably 15 years. I started it when I was in grade school and this story has evolved A LOT since then. But when I first started this story, I guess it could be considered Ice Princess fanfiction so that is why I am choosing to "publish" it here._

_Long story short: when I was a kid I became OBSESSED with Ice Princess. That movie is what first sparked my interest in figure skating and I actually ended up competing for approximately 10 years. I'm "retired" now, as they say, and I actually don't care much for Ice Princess anymore, just because the technicality of it is so unrealistic. But this spin-off has remained close to my heart. I will warn you now… I've changed a lot. Casey is not really a factor in this story. Tina Harwood's name has been switched to Lena Hoerner because I didn't like how much it resembled Tonya Harding, even though I'm sure that was the writers' intention. _

_There is a good chance that no one will ever find or read this story and I'm perfectly okay with that. Part of me almost hopes that it will go unread. But this story, which I have been writing and rewriting for the past decade and a half needs to end up somewhere. I want to have it somewhere, organized and safe, and sadly, I do not think it's something I could publish through a company because of the slight similarities to Ice Princess. _

_**Disclaimer: This story will be written as if it is a published autobiography, told by my main character and protagonist, Megan Pohl. She was Tina Harwood/Lena Hoerner's best friend and the one that Tina/Lena ultimately betrayed at the Olympic Games. I do not own Ice Princess. I do not own the character of Tina Harwood. I created the name "Lena Hoerner" as a substitute and I created the character of Megan Pohl. That's it. If anyone is reading this, I hope you enjoy. Xo, Marie Lynne**_

_**P.S. This story is going to be LONG. Just a warning. Also, later chapters will include descriptions of adult subjects such as mental illness, drug abuse, and domestic violence. Proceed with caution. **_

Preface | The Scrapbook

The year was 2010 and I was sitting on the living room couch, watching a rerun of the Winter Olympics which had taken place approximately two weeks prior. My twin daughters, aged ten, sat beside me; all three of us were mesmerized by the latest, greatest figure skating stars.

We are a skating family. We always have been and we always will be… I am not the type of mother that forces my children into a lifestyle they do not desire but perhaps skating is in their blood just like it is in mine. Despite the fact that the Olympics have been over for two weeks, this is probably the hundredth time we have watched South Korean superstar Yuna Kim dance across our television screen.

I did not mind, though. There were much worse programs that my daughters, Aurora and Destiny could be interested in, and I was not watching much of the Olympics anyway.

I was sitting on the sofa, staring at a scrapbook that was labeled "Skating Memories." I had not taken a peek at this book in over twenty years. It was filled with photographs of myself and my teenage best friend, Lena Hoerner.

Teenagers typically have friendships that come and go. After all, their brains are not fully developed and I can only imagine what Destiny is going to be like as a teenager. What Lena and I had, though, was not just a friendship.

Now, do not get me wrong… we were not in a romantic or sexual relationship. I want that out in the open before going any further in my story. There was nothing between Lena and me in that sense. We are both heterosexual.

But I met Lena when I was eight years old and at a terrible place in my life. If it had not been for her, I am not sure where I would have ended up and I am confident that she would say the same about me. Together, we blossomed in our skating careers and dreamt of the Olympics like any young girls do… and then we made it, just before everything crashed, literally and figuratively.

I was trying to be brave as I looked at that old scrapbook. If I had come back from multiple leg surgeries and a messy divorce, I could certainly explore an old photo album.

I glanced at Aurora and Destiny. They had no clue of the thoughts circulating through my brain, yet I had to be brave for them. I had to set a good example. Taking a steadying breath, I told myself that it had been twenty years and opened the scrapbook.

Suddenly, I flew back in time, almost thirty years ago, when I had yet to turn ten. The world was at my feet and I had no idea just how fortunate I was…


	2. Future Stars

Future Stars

"Mommy, look at that!" I cried and pointed eagerly at the television where Dorothy Hamill was spinning her way to the Olympic gold medal.

From what I am told, my mother walked into the living room where I was bouncing up and down on the couch. "Yes, Megan; she's ice skating."

"That's so cool!" I gushed and I refused to tear my eyes away from the screen until Dorothy had finished her performance. When she did, my eyes only traveled up to stare at my mom. "I wanna do that, Mom!"

It was February of 1976. I was six years old and living in a town called Lincroft, New Jersey, less than an hour away from the heart of New York. I had been to the city a few times and walked past the big Rockefeller skating rink but for some reason, I had never been sparked quite like I was now.

My mom had already been exposed to the sport when my older sister, Rachel thought that she wanted to become the next Olympic champion. Rachel had begun skating when she was roughly my age and the interest had lasted about a year… until Rachel realized that figure skating was hard… until Rachel decided that ice rinks were just too cold for her.

That year of Rachel skating was long enough for my mom to know the basics, though, and the basics are that skating is expensive… really expensive. My dad had a good job in New York City but we were not rich by any means. So now that I was proclaiming my desire to skate, my mom was hesitant, not only because of the money, but because Rachel's enthusiasm was so short-lived.

"Okay. Maybe we can go to Rockefeller this weekend or something if your father's okay with it."

"No, I wanna do that!" I repeated and pointed at the television even though Dorothy was finished skating. "I wanna skate like Dorothy!"

Just then, Rachel walked in the room. Rachel is ten years older than me and yes, it's safe to say that my parents did not exactly plan on having a second daughter. Since I was six years old at the time, Rachel was sixteen and a major pain in the rear. "Aw, Megan thinks she's a champion!"

"I don't yet!" I argued. "But I wanna be one! Mom, can I please learn to skate?! Please?!"

Eventually, my mother agreed, mostly because Rachel convinced her that my time on the ice would be temporary as well. That weekend, we went to Rockefeller, and I fell head over heels in love.

From the second I stepped on the ice, I never wanted to get off. And even though that day at Rockefeller with my family was my first time skating, I was not horrible at the sport. My parents and Rachel were shocked at how I only fell a few times and had no need to clutch onto the railing like most beginners.

The next week, we ventured out to a different ice arena called Iceland which was closer to our house. It was indoors and had regular learn-to-skate classes. My mom signed me up for "Tot 1" but it soon became evident that I was wasting my time in that course. I was miles ahead of the other kids. It was impossible to transfer in the middle of the term, though, so I had fun helping the instructors and demonstrating swizzles.

Unlike my sister, I did not mind the cold ice arena. We had lived in the northeast my entire life so I was used to frigid winter temperatures. Sure, skating was hard but I was up for the challenge and when I started, it honestly was not difficult for me. I was a natural, according to my teachers.

I have no idea where I got my natural skating ability because it sure was not from my parents. My mom was a former algebra teacher and could not take so much as two steps on the ice. My father played hockey when he was younger but he was not exactly talented and he is the first to admit to that fact. Rachel clearly could not skate but she enjoyed horseback riding, cheerleading, gossiping with her billions of friends, and now that she was sixteen, driving everywhere.

My first two years skating were filled with joy. I excelled quickly through the beginner's classes and by the time that I was eight, I was landing axels on a consistent basis which for my age, was remarkable. I participated in a few small competitions and shows at Iceland and other surrounding rinks but I felt no need to be super competitive. I skated because I loved it, plain and simple.

Then, when I was eight, Iceland closed. I was their primary customer; most of the other kids in my area skated at a different rink across town and needless to say, my family did not have quite enough money to keep Iceland in business by ourselves.

At the same time, drama was occurring at school. I was in third grade at Nelson Elementary School and had three best friends named Abby, Katie, and Samantha. We all supported one another in our chosen sports. They came to watch me skate, we went to see Abby play softball, Katie swim, and Samantha do gymnastics. I sometimes swam, too, recreationally, and participated in open gym so I would be flexible for skating.

As you can probably tell, I was an athlete through and through, even at age eight.

One day at recess, Samantha and I begged Katie and Abby to climb this big jungle gym contraption in the schoolyard. Abby was scared but did it anyway and ended up falling and breaking her arm. She could not play softball for weeks and for some reason, the other three girls blamed me.

I was floored and hurt. Samantha had convinced Abby to climb as much as I did and I had not caused Abby to fall. But we were eight years old and our elementary school had cliques. I was ditched and since Iceland had closed, I did not truly have any other friends.

...Besides Rachel. Rachel was my guardian angel. She was 18 and in a brief phase of her life where she treated me with love and respect. Every night we would have a long talk. She would try out new make-up on me and I would force her to pretend to skate on the slippery, hardwood floors.

I had been skating at a seperate rink that had no real lessons available. My parents were saving money for me to sign-up for the big skating program a half hour away, closer to New York City. I did not currently have a coach but I was alright with that. I was teaching myself and improving.

The worst part about the _small rink_ as I called it, was that there were no freestyles. Freestyles are sessions dedicated to figure skaters' practice. All other public skating is banned so the serious athletes have the time and freedom to train and run through their programs. Then again, I was generally one of the only skaters at the small rink so that was not a huge problem either.

Then, one night in early January, Rachel sat me down in her bedroom. "Megan, you know I leave for college tomorrow."

Rachel was insanely smart so she had opted to graduate a semester early from high school and was starting at Brown University in the spring. She was in the Ivy League, brilliant, and I was so excited for her. "I know! And you're gonna tell me all the details of college life!"

"Yeah, of course I will… when I'm home," Rachel said. It had not sunk in, in my eight-year-old brain, that Rachel would not be living at home anymore. She was going to be in a dorm with a bunch of her own friends and since she was attending such a prestigious school, would not come home often.

I was crushed. I cried that night, and pleaded with Rachel to stay home with me and then, to let me come with her to college. Rachel laughed off my concerns. "Don't worry, Megan. I'll be home soon enough. Trust me, you're not even gonna notice I'm gone."

But I did notice. From the first day that Rachel was at Brown, I was distraught with loneliness. My friends at school had banished me, Rachel was at college, and my rink had closed. My main acquaintance was an 18-year-old employee that I followed around at the small rink.

I continued skating because I loved it and I went to school because I had to but meanwhile, I was sinking into a deep depression which, of course, is unusual for an eight-year-old. Thinking back on it now, there were likely other people at school that would have been friends with me but I was quiet and sad and sure that anyone I talked with, would push me away.

I started not sleeping well and in the morning, I would cover the bags under my eyes with some of Rachel's old make-up that I had stolen. That did not last long; Mom could obviously tell what I was doing. I had the make-up skills of the eight-year-old that I was and she confronted me about everything.

Usually, my mom was my best friend in the world but I felt too poorly to tell her anything. Mothers are mothers and I figured she would say something along the lines of, _Oh, just try talking to more people!_

By March of 1978, I was wondering whether or not I should kill myself. I was eight years old. I know now that I never would have gone through with it; I had no idea how to go about killing myself and I never considered it seriously but I convinced myself one day that I was going to commit suicide. Abby, Katie, and Samantha would be sorry that they had ever ditched me.

The school day came to a close and I went to the small rink per usual, although I was supposed to start training at the incredible North York Centre next week. It was that day when I first noticed a girl around my age skating around the perimeter of the ice. To put it nicely, she was not good.

Maybe she could have been decent but it did not help that she was trying to jump and spin like me when she had clearly only been on the ice a few times. She was dressed in a bright blue skating dress, identical to the one I had worn yesterday and kept noticeably looking at me.

Normally, I would have approached her but at this stage of my life, I was too afraid to be extroverted. I kept on skating and attempted a double salchow jump, the latest skill I was trying to master.

I came down and came down hard. Falling is part of skating and I was used to it but this hurt a lot and I winced before I could help it. And then there was a small voice next to me: "A-Are you okay?"

I looked up; it was the blonde girl who had been attempting to mimic my skating and she appeared to be around my age. "Yeah, I'm okay but thanks," I said and popped up.

"You're so good at skating," the girl said, her face envious.

"Thanks," I grinned for what felt like the first time in forever. "But I'm not that good. I haven't had a real lesson in months."

The girl deflated. "I haven't had a real lesson ever… but I want to so bad. I want to learn to skate good like you."

"Well, why don't you ask your parents to sign you up for classes or something? I'm starting at the North York Centre next week. You could come, too," I offered.

"That sounds awesome," the girl nodded. "But my parents are divorced and my mom doesn't want me to skate. She thinks it's um… bad or something."

I giggled. "Well, I'll start to teach you now. Maybe once she sees that you're good, she'll change her mind. What's your name, by the way?"

"Lena," the girl squeaked. "I mean, Kathleen if you wanna get technical about it and I know I should go by Kathy but I wanna be unique so… so I'm Lena. What's your name?"

"I'm Megan," I replied. "And I guess you can call me Meg if you want."

The rest of that session with Lena was a blast. I taught her to keep her shoulders straight, trust the ice, and by the time that we went home, she was a better skater than when she arrived.

"So where do you go to school?" I asked Lena as we took off our skates.

"Nelson Elementary," she said. "I'm in the third grade."

I gaped at her. "Seriously? I'm in the third grade at Nelson Elementary!"

It turned out that Lena was in the same grade at the same school as me, yet in the other third grade class. I felt like we should definitely have seen each other at least once but I did not remember her.

Before we were picked up by our mothers that night, we exchanged phone numbers. I forgot about my pathetic "suicide plan" as quickly as I had come up with it. I had a new friend and her name was Lena Hoerner.

**-MP-**

For the next three days, I did not see Lena again. I was feeling better than I had previously, though still not ideal when on Friday, our teacher announced that we were going to have an open physical education with the other third grade class.

I filed down to the gymnasium with the other kids, grabbed a basketball, and started searching for Lena. About fifteen minutes into our period, I spotted her in the corner. She was spiking a volleyball over and over; she did not appear to have any friends.

"Hey, Lena," I said as I wandered up to her but she shrunk back and looked confused. "It's me, Megan, remember? From the rink?"

Instantly, Lena's face lit up. "Hi, Megan! You look so different!"

"I'm just in normal-person clothes," I laughed and then went for it. "Do you wanna come over to my house after this? We can go skating again."

Lena nodded eagerly. "I'd love to!"

And she did. That day, Lena rode my bus home. We discovered that we only lived a few blocks from one another. She came over to my house and my mom cooked meals for both of us before driving us up to the small rink.

Lena was upset that she had not brought a skating dress with her so I thought about offering her one of mine, but then decided to just wear sweatpants and a sporty top. Lena needed to learn that it was not necessary to dress fancy every time that you practice.

It was a Friday night so there were other people at the _small rink_ but we did not care. Lena was getting faster and we just skated around in circles with the public. I was not getting in much practice but I did not care. I was falling in love with skating all over again, skating in its purest form.

On Monday, my mom took Lena and me to the North York Centre where I was beginning lessons and Lena planned to ask about signing-up. I was ecstatic and nervous for both of us, especially because it was a well-known fact that there were two world-class figure skating coaches at this rink.

First, I had my group class which was essentially a basic freestyle lead by an instructor to see where I was at, skill-wise. The other girls in the course were all approximately twelve years of age and here I was, a scrawny little eight-year-old. But I did not mind. I had fun and Lena had fun watching me. Then, afterwards, Mom talked with Ruth Cormier, one of the two world-class coaches and she agreed to take me on as a student!

Apparently, all Mom had said was that I was eight years old, had been skating for two years, and was working on doubles. Ruth could see my potential.

Lena wanted to find a coach, too, but since she was only on Basic One, there was no need. My mom was so happy that I had a friend, though, that she signed Lena up for her first class just to ensure she got a jump-start.

We went home that night in glee. I was in shock about acquiring Ruth as a coach and that both of us were going to train at North York. It seemed like in just a matter of days, my life had gone from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs.

"We're gonna have to get you some skates," I told Lena when we dropped her off at home. "You can't wear the brown rentals for long or your ankles will get bad."

Lena frowned; she could not afford skates. "Um… I don't think my mom is gonna go for all this…"

"Well, maybe we can run a lemonade stand or something," I suggested. "Trust me, we'll find a way. I promise."

Now Lena smiled. "Okay… I trust you. See you tomorrow, superstar!"

I giggled and shook my head. "Not yet! We're future stars!"

**-MP-**

As much as I want to charge into my next skating-related adventure, I need to take a step back now and fill you in on some of the other details from my life.

I am not exaggerating when I say that when I met Lena, I did not have any other friends and Lena has told me that she did not either. It might sound crazy but it is the absolute truth. When we have spoken about this stage of my life to media over the years, society typically assumes that Lena and I are stretching things so our meeting sounds more important.

We are not amplifying things in the slightest. Prior to meeting Lena, my three best friends were Rachel, who I never saw, and my parents. I also did not get to see my father often because he had a time-consuming job in the city so my mother and I were best friends, more like sisters than mother and daughter. That has never really changed.

Some might see this as strange. Some might also see it strange that in this book, I will be explaining a lot of specifics that one might not think relevant. I will be stating the music that Lena and I skated to each season and what our costumes looked like. These kinds of things may not seem important but each and every detail helps put thoughts together for me and I hope that readers will be able to relive my memories in as much accuracy as possible.

And although skating is the most discussed subject in my story, it is not by any means the only part of me. When it comes down to it, skating is my passion but I would never be able to live my dream without my support system.

Everything starts with my family. Like I said, there was a period of time when my mother was my only friend and while I have clearly made other kindred spirits throughout my lifetime, my mom has always remained my biggest fan.

To put things in perspective, my mom, Emma grew up in a small town in Maine and she loved it there. She had no intentions of ever moving away until she was accepted into an Ivy League institution. She got a scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania and I am pretty sure that is where Rachel gets her insane I.Q.

Or, it could have come from my father, David, who was also at Penn when he met my mom.

My dad had grown-up in the heart of Manhattan and had no desire to move away from the city that never sleeps at night. It was a rough relationship, two people that did not seem at all matched for one another but my parents put aside their differences and have been madly in love their entire lives.

My mom left her miniature Maine household for my dad and he quit a job that he preferred for a better one to support my mom and eventually, he did this again to help the family.

_You make sacrifices for the people you love, _both of my parents taught me and I lived by that motto growing up. I would always put my family and friends' needs above my own.

My maternal grandparents were never a major factor in my life but come to think of it, neither was the rest of my mom's family. Her parents, Jeannette and William did not like to leave their small town in Maine when they did not have to and my mom's only sibling, her brother James, was the complete opposite. He could not wait to get out of Maine. James moved to Orlando, Florida before I was born and rarely came anywhere near New England.

It was completely different on my dad's side. For one thing, my dad came from a huge family. The second of five kids, all of them resided nearby in New York. I was always bouncing around to various relatives' houses as a child; my favorite destination was Grandma Berverly and Grandpa Ron's house. They spoiled me with the best snickerdoodle cookies and never failed to cheer me up after a tough practice.

A close second was Aunt Stacey's place; her kids, Sharon and Sean were my nearest cousins in age and personality.

I came into the world unexpectedly, to say the least. Neither of my parents wanted a huge family and my mom had struggled with infertility for years so after Rachel was born, they were happy and content with her.

Then, Rachel was almost ten when my mom began feeling nauseous. She did not think there was any possibility of pregnancy so when she eventually went to the doctor for the prolonged _mystery illness_, they gave her big news… she had another little girl on the way!

Yes, my mom was so pregnant during her first ultrasound that they could already determine my gender. She was understandably surprised but once the initial shock passed, everyone celebrated the addition to the family. I am not sure Rachel was thrilled at first; she had been an only child for ten years, after all, but if she had to have a sibling, I think she was glad to have a little sister.

My mom and dad had no clue what they were going to name me until the day I was born. They had been looking through baby books and had lots of suggestions from family and friends but nothing stood out. They had apparently regretted naming Rachel without any sort of reason or meaning and wanted to take their time with my title.

I made my appearance two weeks early; at a routine doctor's appointment, my mom started to feel intense pain. The umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. The doctors had to perform an emergency c-section but due to the way that the cord was positioned, they still were not sure if I was going to survive.

Well, I did and it was then that my parents knew to name me _Megan._ It was common enough that I would not receive strange looks from peers but the meaning of my name, according to the Latin language is _strong._ It was perfect for me as a baby and as most people tell me, it was ideal throughout my entire life.

I am not going to bore you with a lot of unnecessary stories from my childhood but there is one I would like to tell that is always brought up at family reunions.

It was one of my earliest memories, coming from 1971 when I was two years old. I had not yet begun skating and my biggest interest was running away from any kind of authority figure whatsoever. I was never the kid that could sit quietly in class. I always had to be on the move, doing something fun and active.

In this particular instance, it was Christmas Eve and Rachel and I were each allowed to open one gift early, as is tradition in our family. I was given a shiny, pink leotard.

This was from Grandma and Grandpa Pohl who, given the way I was running around like a maniac, thought it might be a good idea to put me in gymnastics. My mom was leery, again because of the money factor, but agreed to give it a try. I put on the pink leotard, ran to the shiny, hardwood floors, and went sliding around in my socks.

I was two years old and had never heard of the sport of figure skating. And what did my family say? _Maybe she should be a dancer._

They signed me up for ballet and that lasted less than a week. I cried so hard in my first class that I made myself sick; I could not stand still long enough to do simple toddler work. It's funny because ballet actually ended up being a big factor in my training but as far as that goes, it's an acquired thing, I guess. Ballet and dancing in general is something that you either love enough to do for a living or not, and for me, I was not close.

The same goes for skating. You have to have a gut-wrenching passion to get up early, to go to the rink and train every day, to skip major social events.

But for me, that was never a problem. For me, while there were plenty of nights I cried on the way home from skating and silently swore I was quitting, it was never really an option. I cried more during the occasions that I was injured and unable to skate because to this day, there is nothing I love more than stepping onto the ice and taking off, leaving my worries behind.


End file.
